


Down and Dirty

by The_White_Rabbit42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Restraints, Trickster Magic (Use of a Double), face fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: There's no place you'd rather be for your god than down on your knees





	Down and Dirty

He’s got his fingers tight in your hair, hand guiding your pace as you bob your head on his cock. His other hand stirs at the corner of your vision and something invisible tugs at your your wrist.  It raises it to his shaft, and you take the hint, wrapping your fingers around the base and pumping in time with your mouth. 

 

He's pleased, and the sound rumbling through his chest makes yours swell with pride.  Not everyone can say they can satisfy a being that's been around for ages.

 

“Just like that,” he purrs, and it's hard not take control and try to push him over the edge right then and there.  He likes things on his terms and doesn’t care to be at anyone else’s mercy. 

 

You suddenly find yourself at his. 

 

A figure steps into the corner of your eye, one identical to the one in front of you.  It moves behind you, fingers closing around your arms, pressing firmly with intent. The moment it tugs, you release the God, compliant as it crosses your forearms together behind your back and holds them in place.  

 

Your chest pushes forward in this position, and Loki’s hand wanders down to appreciate your curves.  His fingers brush over a nipple, dancing away just as his double reaches around to tease the other. You arch your back further, whining your need around the god’s tip as you torment him back, tongue swirling lazily round and round.  

 

His hand tightens in your hair, but he doesn’t rise to the bait.  Instead, he holds your head still, reminding you who’s in charge as he rocks forward, easing himself further in. He waits until he has your nose buried in the trim mass of curls at the base of his shaft before taking hold of pebbled peaks.  Expert fingers pinch and roll, milking your moan along his length as he slides out again, relishing every vibration. 

 

He rocks forward again, only making you take him halfway this time, building a slow growing rhythm as he uses the fingers at your chest to keep you humming.  You do your best to hit every spot with your tongue you know drives him wild, and it isn’t long before all restraint snaps. 

 

Both hands grip the side of your head, his desire ratcheting up in a crescendo of frantic thrusts.  He drags you down him again, fucking into your mouth, forcing you to relax your throat and take him.  The effort brings tears to your eyes, but this isn’t your first encounter with him and the way he takes his pleasure.  The way he lets go, allowing grunts and growls to escape unfettered, spurs your own desire on, diminishing your own discomfort as heat pools between your legs.

 

You’re certain he could do this for hours, but he doesn’t.  For a being who simply takes what he wants when he wants it, there’s an intriguing dissonance in the way he’s ever mindful of your limitations and needs.  

 

You know he’s close when the hand still tweaking your nipples disappears.  His hips stutter and a guttural, primal noise fills the air. The double grabs you by the hair, yanking you back at the last second, getting you into position to take Loki’s thick ropes of cum across your chest.  

 

Once the god is finished, he looks down at you, lips curling in one side as he admires his work; wild hair, lipstick worn and smeared across your lips, eyeliner dripping from the moisture in your eyes.  You’re a mess, and you love it. You love basking in the glow of his satisfaction, knowing that you can give him what he needs. 

 

“Such a good girl,” he praises, taking you by the cheek, thumb tracing along your bottom lip and wiping away the saliva gathered at your chin.  “Dirty,” he chuckles. “But good.” 

 

The double disappears, and you relax, sitting down on your feet and letting your hands drop on top of your thighs.  

 

Faded gold meets your stare and a little of the tarnish wears off as he smiles.  “Let’s go clean you up.” 


End file.
